


August & Your Thoughts

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, IT DOES TAKE PLACE IN THE SUMMER! Specifically august but i think we all knew that, M/M, NO SMUT DOE im sorry once again, No Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Skater Boy Louis Tomlinson, Soft Harry Styles, Soulmates Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Swearing, also i know nothing about skating, and idk perhaps there may or may not be a happy ending lets see how many people complain, and the story just goes from there, basically the story starts when harry faces some trouble and then louis saves him, liams a gym addict but wbk, liams who i self project onto.. look away, nialls just the rly cool best friend, oh yeah and its a soulmate au where you can hear your soulmates thoughts, ok sorry thats all the tags BYE, theres gonna be lots of jokes aha, um chile anyways im gonna go before i spoil the whole book, way too much dialogue, zayn and liam are skater boys too, ziam happens? nah im different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I never know what goes on inside your head, yet you know everything about me, Louis. It's unfair."or... the soulmate au where Harry faces some trouble, and Louis comes to his rescue all because he heard a lingering cry for help at the back of his mind. He's also completely entranced by the fragility of the boy before him, so they end up hanging out way too much, and feelings are caught way too fast, and oh yeah, Louis can read Harry's mind. Literally.
Relationships: Gigi Hadid/Zayn Malik, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue; The Fateful Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Before we begin, I just know people are going to ask- I need you to envision Prince Hair Harry, Hedgehog Hair Louis, Quiff Liam, Blonde Stripe Zayn, and 2014 Niall for this. Yes, the eras are ALL over the place, but bare with me! 
> 
> Anyways, now that's out of the way. Enjoy! :)

Louis recalled it as an annoying squeak in the back of his mind. He wasn't expecting it, and honestly he didn't think anything of it at first. He decided to skateboard with Liam and Zayn that night, but after a few kickflips here and there was when he felt something soft pierce into his mind. He remembered everything vividly, only because how could he not? This was the start of something great, even if he hadn’t known it at the time. Glowing street lamps lit up the cracked pavement as the evening sky overlooked their late night activities. He remembered Liam saying something snarky about Louis’ inability to land on his feet, while Zayn snickered at the remark. He remembered he was about to destroy Liam with some concerningly offensive banter, but was suddenly aware of the light ringing in his ears. It was like an everlasting white noise that gently thrummed against his skull, but it was odd because it didn't hurt, and it sure as hell didn't feel like a headache. Was it a hangover? God, he wouldn't even be surprised if it was the beginning stages of a hangover, considering how shitfaced him and the boys had been last night. 

He rubbed the back of his head to soothe it, loosening his grip on his skateboard as he went to crouch against the chain link fence. The two boys accompanying him followed the motion.

It was Liam who spoke first, "Y'alright, mate?" His back was resting against the fence, similar to Louis, but his body was angled awkwardly towards him as he placed his palm over Louis’ knee. Zayn, on the other hand, was squatting in front of the two with him nonchalantly gripping the sides of his yellow penny board.

"Of course he's not alright, Liam-", Zayn quipped, a frown settling onto his face.

"Boys, boys..." Louis closed his eyes as if to focus on the dull ringing in his ears. He brought his hand up to his forehead and applied pressure. (As if that would do anything.) Silence clouded the space between the three as he tried to calm it down.

"...I knew you shouldn't have done ten shots in a row." Liam whispers. Zayn hisses at him bringing a finger up to his own lips.

"Could be a headache, mate." Zayn cooed. "You'd normally be able to handle that many shots, but maybe your body's gone off." One hand was off his board to gently stroke along Louis' forearm, petting him.  
  


"That's the thing, isn't it?" Louis huffed with what seemed to be a failed attempt at a chuckle. "Would be a headache if my head actually ached now, wouldn't it, Zayn?"  
  


Zayn playfully rolled his eyes, loosening his grip on Louis, "Alright, alright. No need to be pissy about it."  
  


"'M not-" Louis went to protest, but he was immediately halted as he felt a sharp pain pierce through the core of his skull. He yelped in surprise, desperately clutching his hair with his eyes clenched shut. If Liam and Zayn were panicking, Louis couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel their hands on his back, or hear their concerned but frantic questioning. If he could describe what he felt in that moment, it would either be black or just simply a void. The sudden pain left as quickly as it arrived, and his mind dropped to a deep silence. A silence deep enough to hear a faint whisper of a voice.  
  


_ I'm afraid. I'm so afraid.  
_   
  
The voice was so frail, so innocent, and so clearly not his own. His eyes shot wide open as he gazed across the asphalt road.    
  
Liam pats him on the back, (bless him honestly) as he surveys Louis’ behaviour. “Tommo, are you okay? We can get you home if you ne-”   
  
“No, I’m alright. I… heard something.” Louis shook his head. “No,  _ someone _ . I heard someone saying they were afraid or something like that-” He ran his fingers through his hair as he scanned his surroundings. Liam and Zayn were still hunched over to his sides, but they looked unconvinced. They exchanged a glance between the two as if to say _ He’s gone mad _ , and Louis doesn’t blame them.   
  
“I think it’s time we take you home, Tommo.” Liam sighs. Zayn nods with a tight smile before they both heave themselves upright to stand tall upon the concrete.    
  
“I’ll cook us something, yeah?” Zayn leaned forward with outstretched arms, motioning for Louis to accept his offer and pull him up off the fence. “I’ll make us some carbonara that Jamie Oliver recently whipped up on the telly.”   
  
“Zayn, who even cares about Jamie Oliver anymore?” Louis snorts.   
  
“I do!” He blustered, his jaw dropping in fake offense. “You guys don’t appreciate my cooking enough for you to be staying over all the time.”   
  
“It’s midnight!” Liam protests rather delayed, “You’re not supposed to eat carbs before you sleep.”   
  
Louis threw a cheeky smirk towards Zayn before poking at Liam’s biceps with a mocking tone, “Oooo, look at meee, I’m Payno and I care about my physical health.”   
  
“I’m serious, Louis.” Liam scolds as he swats away his intruding fingers, “You should too. Hearing voices isn’t normal.”   
  
With that, Louis’ smile fell. Right… the voice. Had he truly gone insane? He was completely convinced the voice wasn’t something of his imagination, but the more he thought about it, the more his beliefs weakened..    
  
“I’ll get the car, yeah?” Zayn hugged his penny board close to his chest as if it were a stuffed animal before lightly tapping Liam’s knees and speeding off into a dark alley.    
  
“...Why did he tap your knees like that?” Louis scrunched his nose up in confusion.   
  
Liam snorted before playfully punching him on the shoulder. (Lightly though, because if it was with any actual force, Louis would not hesitate to engage in hand to hand combat.) “Lad things doing laddy things, what else?”    
  
“You know, Payno-”, He let the sarcasm drip into his voice, “Sometimes, I feel like you and Zayn shut me out of some of your inside jokes. Just a tiny feeling.”   
  
“No way, Louis-” Liam laughed, “Why’d you ever think that? It’s totally not like you’re annoying or anything.”   
  
“Oh, sod off!” Louis scoffed.   
  
“Hate the message, not the messenger.” Liam poked his tongue out tauntingly.    
  
Louis tilted his head and tightened his grip on his skateboard as he plastered a fake smile onto his lips, “I’ll hate both if I want to, thank you very much.” 

  
With that, Liam pouted, “Aw, you know we love you.”   
  
Louis sighed dramatically, “No. No, I don’t think I do.” He stuck his tongue out with furrowed eyebrows, just because he has a mental age of about five years old. Louis noticed Liam wink in response, but his face immediately shifted into that of a deer in headlights as they heard footsteps. No, not footsteps- The footsteps were aggressively slapping against the pavement that it echoed in distant loud clunks, indicating that either someone was running, or just sounded very desperate. Louis whipped his head to survey his surroundings, and he knew Liam did the same.    
  
At the time, he didn’t care to correlate the rapidly heavy footsteps with the voice in his head from earlier, but he should’ve noticed the convenience of such events, considering it was set up almost too perfectly.    
  
“Mate, do you think that’s Zayn?” Liam’s voice rose with a hint of panic.   
  
“No, no. If Zayn ran into any trouble, he’d have called for us, wouldn’t he?” Louis tried his hardest to assure Liam of the best case scenario, but he wasn’t entirely sure himself.    
  
The three of them knew that they entered a restricted area, and they purposely planned to spend their time here which is why Zayn prioritized a safe parking space far away from suspicion, and hidden from any authorities. For extra precaution, they all wore black hoodies and such, just in case they ever needed to crouch down in alleyways. They’d walked at least a block, which, in hindsight, sounds terribly inconvenient for if they ever did get caught, but a block would still be enough time for Zayn to dial a quick emergency phone call to either Louis or Liam.    
  
They weren’t stupid. They had procedures in place for these types of things. So, who on Earth could be running in the middle of the night?   
  
When Louis peeked a quick glance at Liam, he was already frantically throwing his black hood over his head and tucking his skateboard under his armpit. “Quick, hide in the shadows!” His whisper was panicked, but Louis complied as he, himself, threw on his own hood as they both scampered behind a park bench. It wasn’t the most conventional hiding spot, but they hoped their black outfits would pull most of the weight as camouflage.   
  
The footsteps echoed louder and louder, signalling to them that the person was approaching closer and closer. It wasn’t long before whoever they were came close enough that their frantic breaths huffed out alongside their tired steps.   
  
If luck was ever on Louis or Liam’s side, it sure liked to play a cruel joke onto the two because the footsteps stopped right by the park bench. Louis unwillingly held his breath as he caught sight of two bright pink vans on the faintly lit pavement.    
  
The park bench obstructed the rest of his view, and sure, it was dark to see anything, but he was gonna take his chances and assume it was a man that ran for his life and decided to stop at the only place that risked Liam and Louis’ cover, regardless of the shoes’ pink nature.    
  
The man was out of breath, (obviously.) but his breaths were deep, ragged, and concerningly frantic. Louis threw his palm over his mouth to silence any breathing. He craned his neck to gaze at Liam, who had a faint glow in the middle of his hoodie, signifying he was texting Zayn under a darkened shield of black fabric. He’s hoping Liam’s advising Zayn to hold off on bringing the car over for a while, not until this stranger is gone for another block or two. It would honestly be pretty embarrassing if their cover ended up being blown because of some guy getting his late night workout in. That, and a car would draw way too much attention.   
  
His head started to thrum again, but this time, it wasn’t soft. It was a deep but rapid pulse at the tip of his scalp, yet it still didn’t hurt. What was weird about it was that, to Louis, it resembled way too closely to a heartbeat. A heartbeat that was going insanely fast, and God, what the fuck is going on with his brain right now? Is he going insane? Now is the worst time for his head to be throbbing. He’s got to stay focused, calm, collected, and-   
  
“Well, well, well.” A voice drawled. Louis flinched as he risked a glance through the park bench. He took a quick breathless gasp as he found five more pairs of legs standing opposite, but distant, to the stranger’s pink vans. “Thought you could run away, couldn’t ya?”   
  
“No, please-”, Louis’ jaw dropped. The stranger’s voice was deep, slow and heavy, yet it was filled with so much desperation and innocence that Louis’ mind ran fifty kilometres per second. He wasn’t surprised because that voice wasn’t what he was expecting, but it was totally because that voice wasn’t what he was expecting. The stranger’s voice was precisely the one he heard in his head. It had the same hint of fragility, and it was laced with complete and utter fear. “I don’t have anything- You don’t want anything from-”   
  
“Of course not, Harry. We don’t  _ want  _ anything from you because…” A different guy spoke now, one with a laughably high pitched voice, “...we  _ need  _ the money.  _ You  _ said you’d give us money, and of  _ course  _ you don’t have anything, but  _ you  _ kept a promise.” For some reason, the way he emphasized certain words annoyed Louis to no end. It felt like a terrible attempt at being mordant, and Louis just wanted to punch his face in for being so cocky. “You can’t run away from it forever.”   
  
“I’m sorry- I’m sor- I have no money-” Harry wailed out. Louis bit down on his tongue to suppress any impulses to jump in and help. These guys sounded like assholes, and wow, Louis wouldn’t hesitate to throw a few punches on some assholes.

  
“Max, what do you say? What do you think he deserves?” That earned him a couple of snickers to erupt from among the group.    
  
Max, Louis is assuming, cleared his throat and hummed. “I don’t know, Tom. Why don’t we give him what we usually do?”   
  
“Of course. A good Styles’ beating.” A deep voice growled in a sinister matter.   
  
_ Oh my god. Help me. Someone help me. _   
  
He felt those words repeatedly slam against the front of his skull, as if to confirm that this is definitely the source of the voice in his head. This was him, and Louis felt as if he had some underlying hero complex because at an almost lightning speed reflex, he shot out from under the bench and drawled, “Now, now, I know you boys did not just threaten to assault this poor lad.”   
  
As expected, Harry and a few of the other boys jumped in surprise. They weren’t expecting him, obviously, so Louis took this moment as a chance to analyze the situation. He noticed Harry at the forefront of the park bench, adorning a bright pink hoodie that stood out even in the faint evening light. His eyes were wide and so full of innocence it made Louis’ stomach turn. Louis wasn’t thoroughly sure if the wild beating in his chest was from his own heart, or Harry’s, but the adrenaline in his veins silenced any hint of fear residing within him. For some reason, he half expected Harry’s thoughts to seep into his mind at this moment, maybe to either encourage his bravery or discourage his foolishness, but his head was completely empty. He quickly glanced over at the five guys who stood a few feet away from him. They were completely unrecognizable, considering they were shielded by the secrecy of the night smothering their faces, and honestly, that sounded like music to Louis’ ears. Sure, he’d liked to match a face to an opponent, but he risked his cover for Harry to completely throw down some lads, and that’s what he planned to continue on doing.   
  
“Did Harry here get himself a bodyguard?” A guy in the far back muttered disbelievingly.    
  
“Who are you?” Tom, the leader of the pack it seemed, barked. How cute.    
  
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Louis felt a tug at his jeans, and he knew it was Liam signalling him to run away, dive for cover, but that is not what he came here to do. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and craned his neck from side to side, sighing, “He said he didn’t have the money. So, leave ‘im alone, won’t ya?”   
  
“Who do you think you are?” Another one spat, bumping shoulders with Tom as they threw their body forward with the bite.. Truly an embarrassing attempt to act tough.   
  
“Max, please-” Tom snarled, and Max immediately sunk back and blended among the rest of his squad. Tom, then, directed his attention towards Louis, rage burning within his eyes. “This kind of thing doesn’t involve you,” His eyes travelled to the skateboard that rested at Louis’ heels, “or your  _ kind _ , so walk away.” Another tug at the hem of his jean cuffs signalled Liam’s agreement. That, alongside the clear disdain that spewed out of Tom’s mouth only served to fuel Louis’ fire.   
  
Louis only scoffed. “As if.” That caused a few gasps and coughs to go off behind Tom’s back. Louis then maneuvered his way around the park bench until he was standing adjacent to Harry, if not slightly in front of him. He cracked his knuckles and took a quick breath to deliver his only remaining line before initiating a fist fight, but was rudely interrupted by blinding headlights and a screeching honk from Zayn’s terribly old fashioned convertible. He grumbled, knowing this was probably Liam’s doing, and muttered an “I can’t ever fucking win around here.” under his breath.   
  
Zayn peeked his head out of the driver’s seat, yelling “Tommo, what the fuck mate?”   
  
“Oh, look.” Tom swooned sarcastically, “More and more knights in shining armour.” He shifted his attention to Harry, who was trembling behind Louis’ presence. “Today’s your lucky day, isn’t it, Harry?”   
  
“Zayn, get out of the car, will ya? We’ve got a situation here.” Louis gritted out.    
  
Louis took this opportunity to peep a quick glance over his shoulder, to Harry, who was surprisingly way taller than he expected, but looked so… so sad. It made Louis’ intestines drop to see the way his eyes were dejected and empty. Even through the evening’s shadows upon his face, Louis could tell that this boy was so close to breaking. He was so fragile, so helpless… it made him wonder how he even got into such a mess.    
  
“That’s not necessary. Your friend with the skunk stripe in his hair can take a hike.” Max sneered.    
  
That went unnoticed by Zayn, who was strutting on over as if he owned the goddamn alleyway, who smirked, “Alright, chlamydia boy.” He poked at Max’s side as he passed by, which sent him into a high pitched yelp. Louis found this whole situation amusing, because how embarrassing can these five guys get?    
  
“You lads think you’re so tough, but you couldn’t punch a flower even if you tried.” Louis taunted, sending them an exaggerated pout.   
  
“Tragic, really. Can’t believe they lost all their bite once I accused him of a koala STD.” Zayn snorted.   
  
Louis nodded, watching all their faces sour under the glow of the streetlamps. “Completely embarrassing.”    
  
It was Tom who spoke up next, but something changed within him. His voice was deeper, and noticeably more serious and threatening as he snarled, “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” It was thoroughly underwhelming now that Louis looks back on it, but in that moment, that tone change would’ve sent anyone running for the hills.    
  
Louis felt a hand tentatively grasp at his shoulder, and he whipped his head back to focus on Harry, whose lip quivered as he whispered, “Please… you don’t have to-”   
  
“I want to.” Louis murmured. He offered him a polite smile, before facing the boys once again with a playful smirk on his lips. “This is exhausting, boys. Don’t you think so, too? It’s midnight. We’re all tired. Go home.” He risked walking up towards Tom, who was not much more than an inch taller than he was, and bore straight into his eyes.    
  
Tom, who was uncomfortable with the sudden proximity that Louis occupied, scrunched up his nose. Louis half expected him to land a punch or two straight into his cheek, half expected him to directly spit on his face. None of those things happened, to Louis’ disappointment, but to his advantage, Tom backed off with an eye roll and a bitter sigh, “You heard the man. Go home.”   
  
A few shouts of protest broke out within the group, to which Tom silenced with a squint of his eyes. After the rest of his groupies walked away, Tom laughed, looking only at Harry and crooned. “Enjoy the protection squad while you can, Styles. We all know it won’t last forever.” And with that, he, too, spun on his heel and joined the rest of his boys as they all faded into the darkness.   
  
“So, what the fuck was that, Tommo?” Oh, wow. Look who finally decided to stop being a coward. Louis sighed dramatically as he angled his body to face Liam, who was proper fuming even with his black attire camouflaging him into the night. “You can’t have risked a fight like that!” He was pacing back and forth, his hands stuffed into his front pouch pocket; Louis found the whole thing amusing.   
  
“Liam,” Zayn snorts. Oh, good. At least Louis isn’t the only one who finds Liam’s dramatics a little funny. “Those guys are pussies. Louis could’ve taken them easily.”   
  
“Have some faith in me, Payno.” Louis brought a hand up to his chest in fake offense, “You think so lowly of me.”   
  
“Rightfully so.” Liam glared. “You don’t know who those guys were. They could be part of a gang. Or the mafia.”   
  
“The mafia?” Zayn gawked.   
  
“Yes, the mafia!” Liam threw his hands into the air in exasperation. He took a moment to collect himself as he let his arms drop to his sides. “Anyways,” Liam deviated his attention from Louis towards... Harry, and oh, Louis kind of forgot about him for a second. He does blend into the background easily, doesn’t he? “Sorry about that, Harry. I understand Louis was just playing hero for you. We’re glad we saved you from the trouble, but we’re also sorry if we involved ourselves into something we shouldn’t have.”   
  
“Who’s we? This was all Louis.” Zayn shrugged.   
  
“Excuse me?” Louis squawked out, rather obnoxiously, “Says the one who called one of those bastards ‘chlamydia boy’.”    
  
“Zayn did what he had to do.” Liam cut in. “Besides, chlamydia boy isn’t that bad.”   
  
Louis blinked in disbelief, “Are you seriously siding with Zayn right now?”   
  
“He is.” Zayn tittered.   
  
“I am.” Liam winked, to Zayn mostly, but Louis found it appalling.   
  
“You two…” Louis squinted his eyes at them, balling his fists. He let out an inflamed exhale before twisting his torso to face Harry and flashing him a polite smile, “How are you feeling, lad?”   
  
Harry seemed to be startled by Louis’ sudden attention, which Louis found strange, but also quite cute how he nervously meddled with the tips of his hoodie strings.   
  
“Fine.” His voice was hushed but strained, as if he gathered up all his strength to breathe just a single syllable. Louis stayed silent, expecting Harry to elaborate in any way possible, but when he failed to deliver, Louis tentatively rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder.   
  
“Were you heading anywhere before those pricks decided to chase you down?” He questioned, trying to fill the silence. “You don’t have to tell us where, but I don’t think me nor the lads are gonna leave you ‘ere all by yourself after that.”   
  
Harry refused to answer. Zayn ran a hand through his hair while the other shuffled with the car keys in his pocket, “We were just about to head to my place for some food. You’re free to join us if you’d like.”   
  
“Only if you’re alright with it!” Liam butt in. His voice was exceedingly blaring, to the point where it became obnoxious. He immediately regressed when the awareness shot through him, bringing his tone down to a sarcastic mutter, “We sound like right creeps, don’t we?”   
  
Louis snorted, ready to hurl a witty response his way, but was disrupted by Harry’s shy protest, “You don’t sound like creeps,” His voice was unconventionally slow, and it took some time for him to complete his thoughts. “...I don’t think.”   
  
“So, is that a yes?” Louis retracted his hand from Harry’s shoulder before nudging his elbow with his own.   
  
Once again, Harry was timidly fidgeting with the cuffs of his sweater, biting his lip. Louis found it to be completely fascinating, the way he became when he was in deep thought. He glanced down to Harry’s stature, and realized that his whole body radiated hesitancy.    
  
Harry finally looked up to meet Louis’ gaze, the curls in his hair lazily falling down to curtain his eyes. “Yes.” He added a curt nod after, before stuffing his hands into his front pockets.    
  
“Yes!” Liam fisted the air in exaggerated triumph. He walked on over to pat Harry on the shoulder twice, flashing him a blatant smile, “I hope you’re good with carbonara! Zayn’s the best at cooking.”   
  
Zayn narrowed his eyes, “Weren’t you the one opposing carbonara some minutes ago?” Liam blew him a kiss, partnered with a wink, before striding over to Zayn’s convertible with the cheekiest grin on his face. Zayn’s eyes rolled to the far side of his skull, “Aaaalright then.” He straightened his posture before jingling his keys in anticipation. “Let’s go, yeah? I’m a good cook.”   
  
“Not good.” Louis retorted, “The best.” Zayn feigned humility, to which Harry’s lips quirked up in a small smile.    
  
The three of them began walking to the car. Their footsteps tapped across the faintly lit sidewalk as the familiar growl of Zayn’s dying car echoed through the midnight street. The eerie silence of the late evening was a common occurrence for their late night adventures, and it seemed calming in a way. It was a complete contrast from the desperation that rang through Louis’ mind and the threatening encounter with some unrecognizable thugs.   
  
Louis couldn’t stop himself from frequently glancing behind him. He found Harry oddly fascinating, and to no one’s surprise, he focused intently on Harry’s entire being the entire car ride.    
  
He observed the way Harry reserved mostly to himself in the backseat, while Liam and Zayn occupied the front, being utterly loud with whatever they decided to converse about at the time. Louis noticed the way Harry tucked his hands in between his legs while blankly staring down at his feet, only to occasionally stare out the window and watch the street lamps go by. He noticed the way that he jolts whenever Liam includes him into their conversation, or whenever Zayn asks him a question regarding music. He noticed Harry constantly fiddling with either his clothes or fingers whenever he tried to come up with an answer, and the fact that it took him ages to even utter out an answer. Louis noticed Harry sigh in relief when Liam and Zayn patiently awaited his response, and openly listened to what he had to say.   
  
Louis found it all to be quite strange, the way he was always on high alert, but so terribly slow with his words. God, he probably looked like a creep just staring at Harry the entire car ride. He quickly shook his head before facing out the window, focusing his stares unto the night sky.    
  
Louis squinted, trying to single out the stars that were too shy to show their face that night. To Louis’ dismay, the night sky was remarkably dull, and no stars twinkled for him. He let out a sigh of defeat. Guess he has no choice but to think about Harry.    
  
Another sigh of defeat escaped out of him. He craned his neck to gaze at Harry one more time, and he studied him even closer. He wondered so many things about Harry just in mere moments of meeting him, but there were two main concerns on his mind. The first was why the thoughts of such a fragile boy scraped across Louis’ skull.   
  
The second one, though… Looking back now, Louis knew the answer all too well. The answer that broke his heart, and the last word that rang through Louis’ head as he remembered a tragic summer was a pitiful, pathetic, ‘ _ no’ _ .


	2. One; Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spends his first night with Louis and the gang, and gets to know them a little more. It's all... awkward, and he feels terrible for being awkward, but he's glad he's made some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first real chapter! This, along with the rest of the story, will be in Harry's POV! Enjoy :D

"What flavour of carbonara are you up for, Harry?"   


Harry is immediately brought back to reality. He hadn't even realized he'd been spacing out. He glanced over to Zayn, who was hunched over the kitchen counter cracking eggs into a metal bowl.   


"Um..." Harry scratched the back of his neck, letting his hum ring out into the kitchen space, "...What kinds do you have?"

"Knock it off, Zayn." Louis rolls his eyes before nudging Harry's elbow with his own, "He's messing with you. There's only one kind."  


"I think he meant what kind of pasta he wanted." Liam helpfully chimed in.

He stepped behind Louis and flashed him a quick smile, to which Louis performed an exaggerated eye roll, "Nobody asked you, Payne.", before walking over to where Zayn stood to help assemble the ingredients.

They'd just arrived at Zayn's apartment minutes ago, but the trio threw their shoes off as soon as they stepped in and flung their hoodies onto the dark wooden floor like it was routine. Zayn's apartment, to Harry at least, was quite constricted. He would've considered it spacious if it weren't for the multitudes of paintings that littered the living room floor and walls. Piles and piles of clothes were seen at the corners of the sofas and coffee tables, to which Harry can only assume are from Louis or Liam. Socks, shirts, pants, trousers, you name it, they were all scattered across furniture as if a wild animal ran rampant while attached to a laundry basket. Harry was mortified at their carelessness around Zayn's living space, but Harry just figured it meant they were really close. Of course, they'd gotten through introductions on the car ride here, so he got the general idea that they'd been friends for a long time, but them treating this place as their own personal pig pen only worked to affirm their bond.

From what Harry's been informed about in the car, they've been friends since middle school, (which is mind boggling for Harry, considering he'd only known his closest friend for the span of two months.) and that Louis is 24, Zayn is 22, and Liam turns 22 this month. Harry found it honestly embarrassing that he was younger than all of them by multiple months, at the mere age of 21. Hell, even his closest friend, Niall, is closer to their age than he is to Harry's.

He also knows that Zayn loves the colour yellow, but that's purely speculation from his penny board being a bright shade of yellow alongside the blonde highlight at the front of his hair. He isn't sure of Liam's or Louis' yet, but he'll get there someday.  


"What kinds of pasta do you have?" Harry tilts his head, nervously picking away at the loose threads of his pink hoodie. 

With that, Liam skids over to a cabinet closest to the fridge, whipping it wide open examining it from top to bottom. He then brought out two packs of dry noodles, shaking them as he presented them for Harry to see, "We've got fettuccine and penne. Zayn hasn't gone shopping lately." He said it with a significant snark dripping at the end of his sentence that definitely went unnoticed by the subject of the sentence.

"I  _ would've _ gone to Tesco if you hadn't pulled me to the gym, Liam." Zayn scolded. Him and Louis had transitioned onto cutting cured pork and cheese on two separate cutting boards, with Zayn doing most of the chopping. 

"Not my fault. You said you wanted to get fit." Liam feigned innocence.

"That's different, Li." Zayn crooned, his eyes never leaving the chopping board, "You misunderstood. I said you were fit, and that I wish I was you." Harry noticed Louis whip his head towards Zayn, his mouth agape, but Zayn completely disregarded it, his voice low as he continued chopping, "You assumed I wanted to become fit. That was a completely different thing."

"What the fuck..." Louis hisses under his breath.

"Well, excuse me for wanting to bring you along for one of my workouts." Liam frowned. When Zayn let out a low snort, signifying the end of the topic, Harry could tell Louis was still reeling from the way his jaw still hadn't returned from the floor as his eyes acted out disoriented blinks.

"I'll do the long ones, I think." Harry croaked out. He's quite hesitant on choosing this moment to answer, but Liam nods, setting the box of penne noodles back into the cabinet and placing the box of fettuccine by Zayn's cutting board.   
  


Silence follows the next few seconds, but is eradicated before Louis crosses his arms to face both Zayn and Liam, "So, are we just going to pretend I didn't hear what I clearly just heard?"

Zayn finally looks up from his chopping board to deliver a confused look Louis' way, "What do you mean?"

"I mean!" Louis exasperates, throwing his arms into the air for effect, "You admitted to calling Liam fit like it was nothing? Do you lads just flirt on the daily or something? Because, I've never seen this behaviour  _ repeatedly  _ from you both."

"...I don't know what the big deal is, Louis." Liam blinks. Harry doesn't either, but that's probably because he's only known them in the span of an hour, so maybe his opinion doesn't matter that much. 

Louis narrows his eyes at them both, "...Are you two a thing?" Woah, that was forward. Harry hates to admit it, but he did jump a little when Louis casually asked them outright. Louis seemed to notice that too, so he quickly pulled back, “Do I have to tell Gigi the bad news?”. Harry would be lying if he said that Zayn and Liam didn't give off those vibes, but once again, he wasn't entirely sure how this friend group functioned.

Zayn and Liam exchanged a look, and nodded before turning towards Louis, "Nope." They chimed in unison.

Louis lightly kicked them both in the shin, "You two are insufferable."

After flashing Louis his cheekiest grin, Liam spins on his heel to face Harry from the kitchen counter, "Do you do a lot of cooking, Harry?" he gently asks. He then walked on over to the sink where he was filling up a pot with water, presumably for the noodles. 

"Um, yeah. I like to cook." Liam nods again, but Harry gets an uncomfortable itch in the back of his mind. He hears Louis mutter something under his breath, and then quip a snide remark or two their way, but Harry doesn't really pay attention. Instead, he thinks back onto the car ride, and how strange he found it that Liam and Zayn included them into conversations through a series of small talk. He doesn't know what came over him, maybe it was the way Liam again attempted small talk with the question about cooking, and Harry replied with something dreadfully lame. He hates small talk like this. It always feels so empty and boring and completely unnecessary, and it's not that he's mad at Liam for attempting to include them into their conversations, but Harry's disappointed in himself for not giving them rich enough answers to hurl the conversation forward.  _ Pathetic _ , Harry thinks.  _ Absolutely pathetic. _ He's gazing down at the floor now, staring at the bright pink vans that were still attached to his feet, resting atop Zayn's dark wooden flooring. It suddenly hit him that he still hadn't inched away from Zayn's front door, and wow, Harry must look like an utter fool standing rigid in the middle of the entrance, with his hoodie and shoes still snug on his body. It's completely awkward, is what Harry thinks. He clearly doesn't belong here, what with their black hoodies directly contrasting his pink one, and the way they're so fluid with their banter, but Harry can't even mutter a single interesting sentence. He can't blame anyone but himself for it because he has no idea what to do in a social setting, and maybe he shouldn't have agreed to get in a car with, not one, but three strangers to a location that he wasn't familiar with, but that's always the thing with Harry. He  _ always  _ gets himself into unwanted situations, and-

  
  


"Harry?"

Harry looks up to meet Louis' gaze. Harry's jaw slackens slightly as he tries to collect his thoughts once again. He'd been so caught up rambling in his own mind, he hadn't even noticed Louis abandon Zayn's side to stand inches away from Harry.

Louis must notice Harry's doe eyed expression because he chuckles and points to where Zayn and Liam are conversing about God knows what over the stove, "You can help cook, you know? You don't have to stand here at the front door like a lost child." Harry immediately drops his head bashfully. "Hey, no, none of that!" There's a small hint of panic to Louis' voice, but Harry chooses to ignore it. "I mean, you can stay here if that's your kinda thing, but you're free to roam the apartment as you please. We all consider you as a mate."

Harry brings his eyes back up to meet Louis', his gaze full of disbelief, "...Really?"

"Well, I don't know. I can't cook for the life of me, so I'd be quite lonely if you joined the two. Hurts my ego to be alone, you know." Louis subtly attempts to come across as nonchalant with that joke, but Harry takes it to heart.

"Wouldn't wanna hurt you or your ego, so..." Harry's voice dies out, but he works to bring it up again, "I can just... wait for the food to be ready."

Louis wrinkles his nose, "That's boring, isn't it?" He nods his head towards the living room paired with a wink, "Come along. I'll show you around."

Harry obliged, his blood surging through his veins from the sudden movement as he stepped away from the entrance. How long had he just stood there? He didn't want to know, because if the static buzz in his legs were any indication, then that'd be so embarrassing for him. He followed Louis into a hallway, cautiously stepping around the various pieces of clothing strewn across the floor. He hoped Louis wouldn't notice the extra bend in Harry's knees every time he took a step to help regain feeling in his muscles.

The hallway was pretty vibrant, to Harry at least. There were fairy lights decked across the ceiling, alongside strings of clipped-on polaroids displaying various events of the trio's lives. Harry examined them further and found himself looking at several birthday parties, stuffed animals, skateboarding, and partying scattered across different eras of their life. There were some where they looked sad, some where they looked absolutely exhausted. Some were laminated while some were left to decay as time went on. Each placement felt deliberate and personal, and Harry figures that whoever put this together must've put a lot of thought and effort behind it. It comes off as somewhat admirable to him.

"I set it up, you know." Louis hums. Harry jumps back a bit, (God, he really needs to work on that, doesn't he?) before letting out a sigh of relief when he realizes it was just Louis commenting on the polaroids. Louis' cheeks are reddened, from fluster or anger Harry will never know, so he offers him a polite smile and tries his best to deliver out a sentence in one go. 

"I love it a lot." Harry began, "I can tell you were really passionate about setting it up. I noticed there was a certain disorder to it which was nice. Kinda makes me wish I had a long lasting friendship like this." He dips his head downwards in shame, completely in disbelief that he offered a small piece of vulnerability that easily towards Louis who was, in fact, still a stranger to him.

"Well. I know we've only known you for an hour or so, but I can tell the two really like you. You're free to join us if you'd like!" Louis is gentle with his offer, and Harry's almost dumbfounded by his approach. 

"I mean..." A sad excuse of a snort escaped from Harry as he attempted a joke, "Considering I'm already in your guys' house..."

Louis scratches the crick of his neck, "I guess so." Wow, maybe Harry's sense of humour is a little lame. He was sort of expecting Louis to let out a small chuckle, but okay. What does Harry know about how social interactions work anyways?

With the unexpected reaction from Louis, Harry fails to come up with a reply. Consequently, the conversation dies out. Harry takes this opportunity to mentally kick himself in the stomach. The hallway falls silent, the eerie quiet being disturbed only by a faint chatter from the kitchen alongside the buzz of the stove. Harry returned his focus to the polaroids on the wall, scanning each one, skimming through the group ones. The solo polaroids that only captured one of the boys were the most rare ones, is what Harry finds. There were multiple ones of Zayn with cheesy song lyrics written in messy handwriting with what can only be the thickest Sharpie to have ever existed. They weren't lyrics that Harry was familiar with, which was surprising since Harry thought himself to be a self-proclaimed music enthusiast, but maybe they were from recent songs and such.

There was one of Zayn reading a book with his head resting on the arm of a sofa, his bed hair prominent and his face caught in a yawn, the lyric written under it being 'The end of the night. We should say goodbye, but we carry on.' It sounded terribly unfamiliar, but it somehow fit the cozy aesthetic residing within the picture.

Harry hears Louis clear his throat from behind him, but when no words echo out of him, Harry continues skimming through the various pictures. This time, he actively keeps an eye out for a picture of Louis. He looks and looks, but his face drops lower and lower at every Liam and Zayn picture he comes across. Why was there a shortage of Louis in these polaroids? When in fact he was the one who set it up? Was it deliberate? Harry whirls around to face Louis and parts his lips to interrogate him on the matter, but is completely shut down as he’s met with Louis’ back as he walks towards a set of doors.

Louis exhales a sigh of defeat, but Harry's not sure what for. "Anyways, I'll show you to the bedroom." Harry nods and follows. Guess he can ask about it later, or if he’s feeling brave, at the table when Zayn’s done with cooking.   
  
  
Harry focuses on Louis’ back, more specifically the way his pale white shirt wrinkles in the small of his back. His shirt slightly translucent to reveal two dimples at the bottom of his spine. A soft smile crept its way onto Harry’s lips.  _ Cute _ , he thought, but immediately shook his head to kick it away. He shouldn’t be thinking that about any of the boys… he’s only met them today. He’s only met them today, and he needs to start being more cautious with strangers he decides to indulge his time with, but Louis seems harmless. Harry hopes he is anyways. He did stand up for him back there, didn’t he?   
  
Louis steps into a dark room at the end of the hallway. The string of polaroid pictures ended at the door frame only to be replaced with a splurge of animal stickers and colourful doodles that could only have been done by a felt tip marker. Everything about this apartment felt authentic to their personalities, and you could tell they’d been living here for a long time.    
  
Louis flicked on the light switch to reveal to Harry, by far, the cleanest room he’s come across in this entire apartment. His jaw drops to the floor, and he’s sure his eyes pop out of his skull from the disbelief, or rather the dumbfound, that poured out of him. A chuckle spikes from deep within Louis’ throat, “Bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?”   
  
“I… I can’t say I was.” Harry purses his lips and properly appreciates the pristine condition that the room was in. The bedroom itself was spacious, maybe even more spacious than the living room if it weren’t for those claustrophobic clothes and canvases. On one side lay a bunk bed, both sheets were tucked in as if it were in a hotel. On the other side was a vast queen bed, with a superhero duvet. The bunk bed reflected that same superhero sentiment, except they were comic book themed. The room radiated somewhat of a childish energy, but Harry wasn’t surprised. The various band posters stretched across the walls were reminiscent of a pubescent boy going through his emo phase, but it added a strong contrast. Each pillow on each bed was fluffed up, hell, both beds looked to be completely untouched. Did they even sleep in here?    
  
“I know what you’re thinking, Harry.” Louis sighs jokingly, “But, I assure you that we do sleep in here. Liam just prides himself in being productive.” Louis walked over to smooth a crease at the edge of the queen bed. “Makes him feel like a proper adult.”   
  
“I can see it.” Harry nods. He doesn’t budge from the door frame, nervously stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.    
  
“I like that you wear pink.” Louis blurts out. Harry furrows his brow at the sudden switch in conversation, but he goes with the flow as best he can. It just wasn’t what he was expecting.  
  
  
“...Thanks.” Harry utters dryly. He mentally slaps himself in the face before frantically spouting out words to push away the incoming silence, “I like wearing pink too. It’s a… A soft colour to me, and it makes people... like me. I mean, not  _ like  _ me- because some people find pink on a boy weird, but... pink on a boy shouldn’t be considered weird. I don’t think so at least,” Harry’s aware he’s rambling at this point, and that he’s doing so at such a slow pace that it’s probably been minutes since he started, but does he keep going? Absolutely. Should he probably have stopped at that? Absolutely. Louis didn’t look annoyed by Harry’s tangent. Instead, he looked rather fascinated. His gaze constantly switched between Harry’s jittery hands and Harry’s mouth, (which made Harry blush a bit, but we don’t talk about that.) as he stood against Zayn’s queen bed, attentively listening into what Harry had to say. It’s intimidating to be honest, having someone pay that much attention to you, but Harry tells himself that Louis is just being nice. “I probably shouldn’t though...” Oh no, he realizes what he’s done as soon as he spits the words out. He’s getting dangerously close to vulnerable territory, but he doesn’t care to stop himself. “Pink is good because it’s polite, and it makes people want to know me. Is that selfish? It’s probably selfish.” Maybe he should stop talking.    
  
He was immediately about to say ‘ _ Wearing pink gets me into lots of trouble sometimes, but then again, I kind of get myself into trouble all the time _ ’, but he bit down hard into his tongue. He wasn’t going to drop his heavy baggage in the first hour of meeting a stranger, let alone that stranger being Louis.   
  
Louis plopped down onto the bed, falling onto his back. He let his body sag into the mattress as he splayed his arms out, “I don’t think it’s selfish. It’s normal to want people to like you.” He closed his eyes as a cheeky smirk sneaked its way onto his lips, “I have got to say it’s a smart tactic.”   
  
A confused expression settled onto Harry’s face, “Smart?”   
  
“I’m saying it’s working, Harry.” A beaming smile now rested on Louis’ face, “It’s interesting. Gives you personality, you know? Like you’re the main character.” It slightly reminded him of a similar sentiment in the car ride here.   
  
“You’re just saying that.” Harry frowns, clearly aware Louis’ just messing with him now.   
  
“I’m not.” Louis laughs, “You’ve got to lend me your wardrobe sometime. Maybe then I’ll be half as interesting as you, Pinky.”   
  
Harry’s jaw drops, “ _ Pinky _ ?” The nickname rolls disgracefully off his tongue. That’s the worst thing he’s ever been called, and believe him, he’s been called a lot of things in his life. Harry noticed Louis’ smile falter for a second before being replaced by a scoff.   
  
“Would you rather I call you something else then?” Louis peeped one eye open to check for Harry’s response.   
  
“Absolutely not.” Harry whines. “Do something else.”   
  
“Alright.” Both of Louis’ eyes were open now, a knowing smirk dancing across his face. Harry just knows he’s got something worse up his sleeve. It’s probably something degrading about his height, or how lanky he looks. It’s probably something about how slow he talks, or how boring he is, or how much of a terrible person Harry- “How about Curly?”    
  
Harry’s lips part as his eyes perform disoriented blinks.  _ Curly _ ? He was definitely not expecting  _ that _ . He honestly forgot he had a mop of curls in the first place, which he also hated about himself, (but Louis doesn’t know that.) sp he bites the inside of his cheek and clicks his tongue. “I don’t know. Sounds nice. But… why  _ Curly _ ?”   
  
Louis heaves himself to sit upright, “Your curls are nice.” Harry’s face remained neutral and unconvinced, which made Louis roll his eyes in feigned annoyance. “They’re  _ nice _ , Curly. They help make you  _ likable _ ,” He brought his hands up to gesture air quotes, to which Harry wrinkled his nose at, “since you’re  _ so  _ obsessed with that.”   
  
“That’s not nice.” An innocent pout overtook his facial expression, and Louis sighed.   
  
“Sorry, Curly. Beggars can’t be choosers.” He shrugged. Louis dragged his feet across the wooden floor, his socks providing little to no friction as he swung his legs back and forth. Harry let out an exaggerated sigh, seemingly to play along with Louis’ joke, but it also served to help him let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He tended to do that a lot when he was nervous, and honestly, when was he ever  _ not  _ nervous?   
  
Seconds pass by in complete silence with Harry picking away at his sleeves, and Louis swinging his legs over the edge of the queen bed carefree… Until Louis clears his throat, and begins with, “I’ve been meaning to ask…” Harry turns his attention to Louis, who’s clearly on the fence on whether or not he should say what’s on his mind. Harry nods in an attempt to reassure him. Louis musters up a poor smile before breathing out, “Why did you decide to come with us?”   
  
That’s the million dollar question of the evening, isn’t it? Harry’s lips parted to pull out a lie, or anything to make himself seem nonchalant about it, but when his throat clogged up with the absence of an excuse, Harry pursed them back together. How did he even plan to answer that? Honestly, he’s only ever had the car ride as a valid opportunity to question his choices, but even then, that wasn’t entirely a time for him to reflect on it.   
  
In fact, why doesn’t he just think about the car ride now?   
  
  
⇜   
  
  
“Let’s go, yeah? I’m a good cook.” The man with a blonde highlight (Harry’s assuming his name is Zayn.) smiled.    
  
“Not good.” Louis (?), the other boy that originally came to Harry’s rescue with a frightening appearance from a park bench, retorted. “The best.” He added. Zayn pretended to be humbled by the compliment, swatting his hand away at Louis. Harry found it amusing, the way their sense of humour bounced off of each other.    
  
As they walked towards the car, Harry noticed they all adorned themselves with terribly similar outfits, seamlessly blending them into the night sky. Harry’s sure if he blinked that they’d disappear. He observed the way they clutched various sizes of skateboards either against their side, under their pit, or simply swaying on one free hand. They all walked parallel to each other, while Harry lagged behind.    
  
He dragged his attention to his own feet, kicking pebbles as he followed. If any of them cared to look over their shoulder, Harry didn’t spot it. Eventually, the soft rumbling of Zayn’s dying car signalled and the sudden halt of the boys signalled that they’d reached the car. Zayn circled around to open up the backseat, yelling out, “Toss your boards here!”   
  
They complied, passing off their skateboards to Zayn who chucked it with utter carelessness. Harry grimaced, wondering if that was even allowed. Weren’t skateboards expensive? And heavy? He wouldn’t know. He refrained to question it any further, considering they seem like they’ve been skateboarding way longer than Harry has.   
  
“Alright.” Zayn clapped the sides of his thighs, rubbing off any sweat he might’ve accumulated. “Liam, you’re sitting at the front, right babes?”   
  
Louis gapes with utmost offense, “Excuse me?”   
  
Liam brought his hands up to his chest and fawned, “Aww...Sorry, Louis. We all know I’m his favourite.”   
  
“Oh, piss off.” Louis grumbled, throwing his hood up in rebellion. “You guys are just brutal today. Was it National Take A Piss Out Of Louis Day or did I miss the memo?”   
  
“Sorry, Louis.” Zayn’s accent lilted in his voice, making it sound like ‘Loueh’ instead. “Next time, for sure.”   
  
“Next time, my ass.” He fiercely exhaled through his nose, flicking his hair out of his face as he spun and faced Harry. “Guess you’re stuck with me and the boards today.” He flashed him a wink, to which Harry replied with absolutely nothing except for a confused blink.   
  
“‘S fine.” He muttered. It was in such a devastatingly quiet volume that he wasn’t even sure he breathed it. Neither of the boys gave any indication that they caught it, and Harry sighs, not knowing if that was a good thing or bad thing.   
  
Zayn pinches Liam’s cheek before heaving himself into the driver’s seat. His body is cramped from the claustrophobic size of his car, (Harry wants to ask why he still keeps it around, but he figures it’s rude to do so.) yet Liam effortlessly slips into the passenger seat beside him. Louis hisses another “Fucking sods.” under his breath before pulling open a car door who looks seconds away from falling off. He flashes him a huge grin, gesturing for him to go in.   
  
Harry timidly slips into the backseat, squeezing himself upon the pile of skateboards. He was pushed up against them so much so that he could feel the wheels poking into his arms, and the edge of the boards jabbing into his sides. Louis carefully settled himself alongside Harry, not bothering to put on a seat belt.    
  
Zayn was sitting in the driver’s seat, directly in front of Louis, and he was adjusting his seat. The faint jingling of his keys in the ignition filled the interior, before it was accompanied by Liam glancing into the mirror, “Feeling comfy, Harry?” His eyes were polite, and Harry appreciated it. He provided him a tight nod, withholding the fact that the boards were ruining all chances at comfortability right now.    
  
“Who were those guys, Harry?” The way Zayn asked it was so casual, but Harry merely shrugged. He’d rather not delve into that right now, seeing as he can’t even speak coherently for them to pay attention. Zayn adjusted his seatbelt, and then looked back with a sad smile, “Ah, I get it. My mistake for asking.”   
  
“They’re gone now, so-”, Liam cut in. He was desperately trying his hardest to be comforting, to which Harry applauded the effort, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find the sudden blurts strange, “You’re safe with us.” He let out a snort, “You’ve even got Tommo with you in the backseat.”   
  
“The ultimate puppy guard.” Zayn chuckled, sending a cheeky grin towards Liam.   
  
“You know it.” Liam replied, reflecting the same motion. Harry’s eyes peered into the interaction and swore there was something going on there, and he didn’t want to comment on it, but his suspicions were confirmed when Louis immediately let out a loud gag.   
  
“Revolting.” Louis jokingly retched into his palm, “Flirting in front of my own eyes.” Zayn and Liam let out a giggle, (yes, a giggle. Harry was shocked too.) as Louis puffed up his cheeks, imitating bile rising in his throat. “Me and Harry can leave while you two shag in the car. It’s completely fine.”   
  
Oh wow. That was the definition of blunt. Harry’s lips were puckered inwards, and judging by Zayn and Liam’s reaction, it was completely justified. Liam threw his hands onto his face, failing to hide the embarrassment in his cheeks as he whined a “Louis, no! Why would you say that?”, as Zayn howled with laughter.    
  
“Oh, yeah, Louis. I’m sure Gigi would be absolutely on board with me shagging Liam.” Zayn tittered, resting his hands on the wheel.    
  
“Can you both stop talking about shagging?” Liam sputtered, peeking through his fingers.    
  
“Maybe if you lads actually cared about me…” Louis crossed his arms, letting the bitterness seep into his words.   
  
It was an amusing sight to watch, that’s for sure. Harry guesses that  _ that  _ was the second moment where he realized that they were completely harmless. The first being… well… Harry turned his head to peep a glance at Louis, and smiled sadly to himself. He thought Louis was awfully courageous for standing up for him, even after barely knowing him. He guesses that his bravery was what made Harry agree to tagging along, and just from what he’s experienced in the car ride, he’s assured that he’s made the right choice.    
  
“Sorry, Liam. I love you.” Zayn cooed, releasing one hand away from the wheel to stroke his thumb down Liam’s cheek.    
  
“Aw, Zayn…” He pouted.   
  
Louis instantly dry-heaved, making Liam roll his eyes when Zayn dropped his arm back onto his lap. “You guys are insufferable.”    
  
“Sounds to me like you’re jealous.” Zayn smirked.   
  
Louis’ eyebrows shot up as he violently kicked against Zayn’s seat. “Am not!”   
  
“Are too.” Liam turned his head, for the sole purpose of sticking his tongue out. It made Louis’ jaw drop and his eyes jut out in frustration that Harry was convinced they were going to fall out. Their banter was similar to that of kindergarteners, and Harry doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing. He’s leaning more towards good since he finds their exchange completely hilarious, even if he’s not guffawing his lungs out.    
  
“You know what? I’m calling Gigi.” Louis huffs. He dug deep into his back pocket searching, but his eyes widened as he failed to locate it. He then frantically started tapping around his pants, fumbling through his hoodie pockets, while Zayn and Liam snickered knowingly at the front.  _ Oh _ , Harry thinks,  _ they’ve probably got his phone or something _ . Louis seems to come to that same conclusion as his eyes narrow at them both, his voice low and gravelly, “...You think this is funny, innit?”   
  
Liam proudly held up Louis’ phone, shaking it as if it were a maraca, “Sorry, mate. Your phone’s dead.”   
  
“I don’t know how you forget that you gave it to ‘im.” Zayn commented. Louis performs an exhausted eye roll, clearly displaying the night taking a hold of his tolerance, before shrugging.    
  
As Zayn pushed his foot onto the pedal, Liam’s face lit up immediately. The car was set into motion, a faint rumbling hummed at Harry’s feet, sparking concern. The whole car came alive, jittering, but unfortunately, that same jittery nature only served to apply pressure onto Harry’s already irritated sides. He never dared to speak up though. He can handle it...well, he assures himself that he can, at least. He decides to focus his attention on their ongoing banter in hopes that the consistent jabs would subside.   
  
Liam relaxed his body into the car seat, letting out a soft chuckle, “Harry,” he says. Harry sits up straight, listening attentively, “Do you want to tell us about yourself? It’s alright if you don’t.” His tone is gentle, and so genuine that Harry’s surprised. Basic human decency isn’t something he expects from people, sadly, so this is a nice surprise.   
  
“Um…” Harry clears his throat, clutching his knees in hesitancy. “I…”, he forces himself to raise his volume, but it’s somewhat of a strain. Liam nods compassionately as seconds by, and Harry so desperately just wants to stay silent, but he gives it another go. “Well… My full name is Harry. Harry Styles.”    
  
“Styles?” Louis is the first one to speak, but it’s not in mockery like many done in the past. “Sounds like a rockstar.”   
  
“Agreed.” Zayn nods. Streetlamps occasionally lit up the side of his face, but other than that, the car was smothered in the darkness of the midnight sky. “Proper pop star like…”   
  
“You’d totally be the main character, mate. You’ve got the name for it,” Liam adds. He hums for a bit, before tentatively tapping Zayn’s shoulder, “Hey, don’t you reckon we should give an introduction too?”   
  
“I think it’d be rude not to,” Zayn and Louis bit back in unison. As soon as they realized, they both gasped, with Zayn turning his head over his shoulder to face Louis. “Jinx!” They yell again. “Jinx again!”   
  
“Sorry, Harry. They’re five.” Liam sighs, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Um, I’ll start the introductions then. I’m Liam.” He raises a finger to point to himself, “Liam Payne. Age 21, but! I turn 22 this month. You’re invited to my birthday party, you’re welcome.” Louis whistles sarcastically, but Liam pays no attention to it. He then moved on to point to Zayn, “This is Zayn Malik. He’s 22. Coolest bloke I’ve ever met. We met at McDonald’s, didn’t we? Proper love story beginning and all that.”   
  
“Wasn’t he the one who told us to quit talking about shagging?” Louis interrupts.   
  
“He’s a fair maiden, Louis.” Zayn quips, which sends Louis into a snort.   
  
“You guys should stop talking. I’m trying to give Harry the necessities, and shagging isn’t necessary information.” Liam scolds, a pouty expression settling into his face.   
  
“Oh yeah, I’m sure Harry’s exceedingly interested in you and Zayn’s love story.” The sarcasm is practically dripping off of his voice.   
  
“I am.” Harry mutters. “Keep going.”    
  
So, Liam does. Harry completely disregards the way Louis’ mouth morphs into an ‘o’, as well as the way his eyes are piercing into his side, or maybe he didn’t. Either way, he listens in on Liam’s exposition.   
  
“As I was saying,” Liam bit out, sending a sharp death glare Louis' way before softening his expression as he returned to Harry, “Me and Zayn, we’re mates. We met at McDonalds, and we were like ‘Woah! We go to the same school?’, and then we met Louis at school.” Liam freezes for a second, before momentarily pointing to Louis, “Oh, right. Forgot about his introduction.  _ He’s  _ Louis Tomlinson. Age 24. He’s an old git.”   
  
“ _ You’re _ an old git.” Louis shot back.   
  
“Mmmm, whatever you say, big guy.” Liam rolled his eyes, “Yeah, anyways… He’s old. Grandpa status, I think. At school, we watch the musical production for Grease for a date, right?” Harry notices Zayn raise an eyebrow in the mirror, and he’s honestly not sure if Liam’s joking or not with the whole Zayn thing. Zayn mentioned someone named Gigi earlier… Possible current girlfriend? Was Liam an old flame turned friend? Was it a joke? Harry tried his best to make sense of it at the moment which proved to be a hard task. “Here me and Zayn are, waiting in line to go into the theatre, holding hands, like lads do, you know?” Harry doesn’t know. “Until Louis, the ‘Tommo’, Tomlinson walks up to us asking if we want front row tickets!”   
  
“I don’t want to hear this story anymore!” Louis yells out, quickly clasping his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. “Move onto something else, please.”   
  
Liam narrows his eyes at him, then nudges Zayn’s shoulder to exchange a glance with him. Zayn then nods, and Liam sighs. Harry watches in awe, wondering if they had some sort of secret language composed of stares and body gestures. “Fine. I’ll tell you the story another time, Harry.” Liam turns his body to face the road, and just like that the car falls silent.   
  
The conversation is quiet and slow the rest of the way. Liam discusses music with Harry when he decides to plug in his own playlist. Zayn informed Harry that the drive would be a while as they decided to only trespass onto restricted property far away as a safety measure.    
  
Harry did end up dozing off, his side numbed from the relentless sharp edges of the skateboards. When he awoke, he found himself resting his head on the window, and that the continuous jabs at his side had disappeared. He glanced down to find that there weren’t any more boards at his side, so he scanned his surroundings in order to come up with a valid explanation. His eyes fell onto Louis, who was passed out, resting his head on the window, but Harry’s eyes caught sight of the three skateboards that Louis clutched between his legs and arms, and he could feel his heart soften.   
  
  
⇝   
  
  
“So?” Louis still awaited an answer.   
  
“Um…” Harry fails to come up with an eligible excuse, fiddling with the loose threads at the hem of his hoodie.    
  
Thankfully, approaching footsteps echoed as Liam poked his head from the hallway. “Food’s almost ready!” He chirped, slapping the door frame with enthusiasm, “Harry, would you like to help set the table?”   
  
Harry nods. Relief settles into his bones as he smoothly evades Louis’ question, but one quick glance back at Louis shows that he intends to come back to this later. Maybe in the future he’ll have a valid explanation ready for him, but he can run from it for now.   
  
Harry makes quick work setting the plates down alongside metal utensils. He was informed that they had close to no spoons due to Liam’s unconventional fear of spoons. Harry wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not, but Liam reassured him it was a genuine fear for him. Each of the boys had a special plate; Louis had blue, Liam had red, while Zayn, unsurprisingly, had yellow. Harry was given one of Louis’ blue plates, which was three shades lighter than his.    
  
“Hey, what colour do you want?” Liam wondered, turning off the stove.   
  
Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, “...Pardon?”    
  
“He’s assuming you’ll start eating with us from now on and wants to know what colour of plates you’d like.” Zayn clarifies. Ohh, that makes sense. Liam blushes, but Zayn gives him a cheeky nudge at his side, “Always so forward. He’s planning on buying them first thing in the morning.”   
  
“Am not!” Liam argues.   
  
“It’s one in the morning,” Louis clicks his tongue, “Unless you’re planning on buying them at sunrise…”   
  
“I actually was planning on doing so.” Liam sheepishly admits.   
  
“Hey!” Zayn nods his head towards Harry, “We don’t even know if he’s going to start eating with us yet.”   
  
“Right.” The disappointment was evident on Liam and Louis’ face, and Harry felt guilty.    
  
“Um…” he starts, “I could.” Louis’ eyes lit up from across the table. “You guys are… fun.”   
  
Louis pumped his fist into the air, “Yes! You hear that, Payno?” He whips his head to face Liam, who was approaching the table, and when he comes in close proximity, lightly punches him in the crotch, “He says we’re fun. You’re welcome.” Liam retaliates by slapping Louis by the back of his head, sending Zayn into an eye roll.   
  
“...Why don’t you pick a colour?” Harry asks no one in particular. Liam glances back and forth between Zayn and Louis, but Zayn’s eyes fell onto Louis.   
  
“Oh, wow. Boys, boys, the pressure’s getting to me.” Louis chaffed, before looking directly at Harry. He hums, bringing his hand up to stroke his chin. “Green.”    
  
“ _ Green _ ?” Liam shrieked. Guess Harry’s not the only one surprised by his choice. Harry was kind of expecting pink, based on their conversation in the bedroom, but green’s a pretty colour too. “Green’s the colour of vomit!”    
  
“Liam!” Zayn reprimands.   
  
“Yes, Payne. And, green’s also the colour of Harry’s eyes.” With that, Liam’s face falls. “Think before you speak, lad.” Liam goes to face Harry, and when the realization hits him, his entire expression falls into that of apologetic. Louis continues, though, feeling the need to justify his choices further, “Plus, I have blue eyes. If blue’s my colour, it’s only natural Harry gets green.”   
  
“You only have blue because I took red.” Liam deadpans.   
  
“ _ Yes _ , Liam,” Louis quips, “ _ But _ , that’s not important right now.” There’s  _ clearly  _ some unresolved colour disputes there, but Harry pays no mind to it. “Harry’s colour is green, end of story. Mission accomplished. Problem fucking solved.” He went to cross his arms and sag into the old fashioned chair to demonstrate his superiority. Liam pulled the edge of his mouth in annoyance, accompanied by an eyeroll, showing that it came off as immaturity instead.   
  
“Alright, break it off, boys.” Zayn exhaustedly shook his head, heaving a huge pot of steaming carbonara onto the table. He fixed it directly in the center, shambling to fetch a wooden spoon and stirring it with utmost care. The smell of cheese and pork clouded up Harry’s nose, filling his senses.   
  
Louis greedily snatched the wooden spoon out of Zayn’s grasp, selfishly helping himself to a heap of carbonara. Liam’s yelling him off, trying to fight for custody of the spoon in attempts to “save some pasta for the rest of us!”, while Zayn just stood back and observed. Liam quickly overpowers him, successfully gaining ahold of the spoon. He holds the spoon up in the air with triumph written over his expression, a few fond chuckles escaping Zayn’s lips.   
  
“Help yourself.” Louis’ words are sly, but they’re not directed at Liam. Harry catches sight of Louis pushing his heap of carbonara across the table, towards… Harry himself. Louis stands up and scrapes off half his plate onto Harry’s. It’s done with no refinement, as one would expect, but the thought is still what went across.   
  
“Thanks.” Harry breathes. He makes quick work stabbing his fork into the pile of fettuccine, swirling it about until it was thoroughly wrapped around the prongs. He took a tentative bite, but once his tongue collided with the pasta, it was heavenly. Maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten for quite some time, or maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten  _ good  _ food in ages. The taste was exquisite, and the texture didn’t feel too jarring. Louis wasn’t lying when he said Zayn was the best cook. He hadn’t been one for carbonara before, (Mostly due to him never having tried it.) but this is probably the best carbonara he’s ever had, and that’s all from the  _ first  _ bite.   
  
“I knew you were taking too much for it to only be yours.” Zayn laughs, settling down to sit beside Liam. Liam helped to drop the remaining contents of the pot onto Zayn’s plate, to which Zayn thanked him by a pinch on the cheek. Which cheek, you ask? Harry couldn’t tell you; he was too busy savouring every bite of Zayn’s carbonara.    
  
“Maybe I was hungry today! All those heroics took a toll on me body.” Louis whined, rubbing his bicep to soothe it mockingly. “Are you enjoying it, Harry?”   
  
Harry looked up from his food, with his cheeks loaded and sent him a nod. He was sure pasta was spilling from his mouth with the speed that he was eating at, but he was too caught up in his own enjoyment to stop himself. Liam’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, helping himself to a huge first bite.    
  
“Zayn!” He gasps, after swallowing it at lightning speed. “You never fail to serve.”   
  
“Thank Jamie Oliver, not me.” Zayn dropped his head in an attempt to look bashful.   
  
“Oh, come off it! Harry’s enjoying, Liam’s enjoying…You’ve got magic hands!” Louis encouraged. Harry agreed wholeheartedly,    
  
“Aw, you boys are only saying that so I don’t kick you out of the house.” Zayn smiled.   
  
“Absolutely.” Liam laughs, stuffing his face with no remorse. Everybody at the table reflected his motion. Maybe it was due to it being one in the morning, and the midnight hunger settling in, but they ate it up like it was the last thing they’d ever eat. Liam went to steal a few bites off Louis’ plate, but was immediately met with a thwack on the shoulder.   
  
“Payno, you prat!” Louis pulled his plate closer towards him, sticking his tongue out, “What happened to you preaching not eating carbs before you slept?” Louis cautiously brought the plate to his face to eat the remaining bits directly from it like a dog.   
  
“Ouch! I’ll just double time at the gym.” Liam rubbed his shoulder, a pout settling onto his lips.   
  
“Not the fucking gym…” Zayn muttered under his breath. Liam rushes his head to face Zayn with a pleading look in his eyes. Harry watches them closely, and realizes that this is the third moment where he didn’t feel threatened by them. In fact, he felt… safe? Their friendship is so comical, and in a way, borderline chaotic. They were always having a laugh, and nothing was ever too serious, and it was a complete change from what Harry usually indulged himself in. There was nobody here that expected anything from him. There was nobody at this table that thought of him as less, and Harry is shocked. Just with one hour of meeting them, he immediately feels like he’s known them for longer than that. He hated to admit it, but he felt like an equal, especially when they’d include him in conversations, and show interest in Harry’s personality.    
  
As Harry gulped down his final bite of carbonara, he took one more glance at Zayn, who gave into Liam’s puppy eyes, and Louis who was trying his hardest to stifle a laugh, and supposes he could get used to it all.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm sorry that this chapter was so slow, but I mainly wanted to use this chapter for exposition and to show the depth of Zouiam's friendship, and how Harry, as an outsider interpreted it.
> 
> My social medias are gotommoggo on twitter! I tweet about this fic sometimes, so if you want updates, you can go over and check them out there!
> 
> Also! I will TRY to post twice a month, at the least! I don't want to keep any of you waiting, and I really also don't want to hold this off for very long... but, I'm aiming this to be about... 20-30ish chapters? So, it's gonna be a LONG ride. Please stick with me! I'll love you forever if you do! 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos so far, and the 2 comments on the prologue! I love you all! Have a great day, everyone! :D


	3. Two; Refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to run away, and encounters an old ghost that spins him around to embarrassingly return to where he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is everyone doing this fine September? I'm so sorry for the wait! I'm gonna have to change the updates to once a month, I'm sorry! I swear things spice up soon :) Congrats to Louis for winning #ArtistOfTheSummer! King behaviour, if you ask me.

  
The night has calmed down now, and Harry’s eyes are getting weary. He could tell the rest of them shared the same sentiment with the way their bodies sagged cleaning up the kitchen table. Liam let out an unapologetic yawn while washing up the dishes, and it ended up cycling through Zayn, Louis, and Harry respectively. Yawns, they’re quite contagious, aren’t they?    
  
Harry glances at the stove clock. It’s a quarter till two in the morning, so Liam throws himself onto the creaky living room couch, the impact of his body rumbling the floor beneath. He’s face down onto the couch, almost suffocated in the crease between the arm and the cushion of the couch. Harry knows that this is the part where they all sleep, finally dozing off into the night, but Harry sort of doesn’t want that to happen. Well, that’s not true, but… What is he going to do now? He feels like an awkward presence, and although his eyes are drowsy, his body is stiff and very much awake. He had no problem sleeping here, but he wasn’t sure what  _ they  _ would think. It was Zayn’s apartment after all.   
  
“Are you going to sleep?” Harry’s leaning against the sofa, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. His head is tilted, awaiting Liam’s response, but he’s sort of in an awkward standing position because he’s refraining from touching any of the furniture or the astray clothing hanging from the lamps. (Mainly because he doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to.)   
  
Liam lifts his head, his voice groggy, “Mmmm, yeah. I need to buy you those plates.” His words slur together as exhaustion overtook his consciousness, but he muttered out a final, “Goodnight, Harry.” before his body went limp on the couch.    
  
“Well,” Louis poked his head out from the kitchen, before striding over to stand by Harry, “He’s out cold. Can’t say I blame ‘im though.”   
  
“Can’t say I do either,” Harry echoed, his voice monotone. He sneaked a glance over at Louis, and his face fell apologetically as he saw Louis’ dazed demeanor. He was probably next to pass out if he didn’t stop to chat with Harry.   
  
Thankfully, Zayn walked in flaunting his proudest yawn, which further embolden Louis’ hazy expression. “Do you mind not making me want to nod off in the living room?” He quipped exhaustingly.   
  
Zayn hummed, lazily rubbing at his eyes, “I don’t know, Louis. I’m gonna sleep next to Liam if that’s alright so move over, will you?” Louis’ eyebrows pinched together as he blinked, watching Zayn topple onto the couch, landing directly onto Liam’s back. Liam lets out a gruntle of protest, to which Zayn replied with a moping sigh. They both fell silent after that, letting the sound of white noise and their gentle snoring fill the living room air.    
  
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Harry’s the one to break the silence, which is something he’d never expect, but he needs to remove himself from the narrative. The narrative being Zayn’s apartment.    
  
Louis went to stretch his back, his hands falling onto the back of his waist, craning his torso forward before letting out a tired sigh, “Well, that’s all up for debate.”   
  
“...Debate?” Harry goes to fiddle with his hoodie strings again.   
  
“Aren’t  _ you  _ going to sleep?” Louis reiterated, mocking Harry’s earlier notion. Harry let out a pout.   
  
“...I don’t feel tired,” He lies. Well, it’s not entirely a lie… More like a half-truth. He wouldn’t mind staying up for a while if it meant he could go find somewhere else to spend the night, considering Zayn’s passed out and nobody else mentioned owning a car of some sort.    
  
“Oh, sure you do!” Louis counters, “Your eyes can barely stay open! Don’t try to be modest.”   
  
“...I guess so.” Harry stares at the floor, tracing a circle with the tip of his foot. “I don’t know if Zayn would allow me to stay over anyways.”    
  
“ _ Yes _ , he would.” Louis went to vigorously shake Zayn’s shoulder to wake him. Zayn’s head shot up, whipping his face between Harry and Louis with a disoriented expression settled onto his face. “Zayn.” Louis starts, his voice gentle. It was a complete contrast from the rude awakening he bestowed upon Zayn.    
  
“How long has it been?” Zayn mutters, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t move from Liam’s body; In fact, his entire body is smothering Liam as if he were his blanket, and it seemed to be working because even after Louis’ violent method of awaking Zayn, Liam was sound asleep.    
  
Louis waddled over to the kitchen before calling out, “Ten minutes.” He walks back, his hands on his hips, “Can Harry sleep here?” He’s shifting his weight between his legs, and it’s almost comical the way his stance reminded Harry of a feisty middle aged woman.    
  
With that, Zayn’s dazed expression softened, “Of course!” He attempted a polite smile before nodding towards the hallway, “You can sleep in one of the bunks, or the huge bed. Any will do.”   
  
Oh no.  _ That  _ was a double-edged sword. Now, Harry’s not feeling tired at all. Don’t get him wrong, Harry’s not inexperienced when it comes to falling asleep in houses that aren’t his own, but this was different somehow. He still felt like he was unwelcomed, even after feeling included the entire two hours he’d been with them. It sounded contradictory because it was. He just couldn’t quite explain it. “Um,” Harry begins, forcing himself to face Zayn on the couch, “I’m not sleepy.” He says instead. It’s the coward’s way out, repeating yourself when you can’t come up with anything else, but maybe it’ll convince Zayn.   
  
“Well, we all are, Harry.” Zayn jokes, his eyes drifting between open and shut as he fought to stay awake for this conversation. “Do you not want to sleep here?” He sounds hurt, and Harry knows he’s joking, but he lets himself fall into the trap anyways.   
  
“I don’t want to trouble you.” If Louis or Zayn noticed him deliberately avoiding the question, they didn’t mention it, “I can walk home, I promise.”    
  
“Just because I’m knackered doesn’t mean I can drive you home, Harry.” Zayn insists. Harry stills, because how is he supposed to rebuke that? He doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t have an actual home to go back to, so he goes for a nervous laugh.   
  
“It’s fine, I can take the buses.” As soon as he says it, he completely regrets it.   
  
Zayn frowns, “Harry. No buses are functional after two in the morning-”   
  
“I’m not tired.” He bit back harshly, gritting his teeth. With the way Louis and Zayn’s eyes widened at Harry’s sudden hostility, Harry immediately panicked, bringing his hands up to play with the strings of his hoodie. “Sorry,” His voice was meek, “Can I… go for a walk instead?” He dropped his head in shame. He didn’t mean to be so unfriendly in that moment; He felt cornered and it honestly slipped out. “Just to tire myself out…” He continued.   
  
Louis let out a pointed whistle, “...Alright. But, if you don’t come back in the next hour, don’t think we won’t file a missing persons report for you.”   
  
“I second that,” Zayn chuckled.   
  
Harry mustered up a smile, “Thank you.” He breathed. He can’t believe that actually worked. Louis stretched out an arm, gesturing for Harry to follow him to the front door. Harry nodded shyly and started to move on his feet. He could feel Zayn’s skeptical eyes searing into the back of his neck the entire time, but he tried his hardest to focus on the floor instead.    
  
“Goodnight, Zayn.” Louis cooed, hovering over the couch. Zayn stretched out a thumbs up, shoving it straight into Louis’ cheek before falling back asleep. Louis rolled his eyes, walking over to join Harry at the entrance.    
  
His voice grew quiet as he unlocked Zayn’s door, “...Will you actually be going for a walk?” Louis was calm, but his blue eyes were patiently peering into Harry’s own, probably to scan for any sign of deception.    
  
“...I don’t know.” Harry offered. It was the closest to the truth that he would get with Louis anyways, so it should pass.    
  
Louis let out a deep breath through his nose, unlocking Zayn’s door, “Stay safe, alright?” Harry nods, a smile spreading onto his lips. This is all going to plan. “Don’t think that we weren’t joking about the missing reports thing.” Harry playfully rolled his eyes, brandishing the most polite smile he could muster. Louis stepped back, reciprocating the gesture, and tilted his head. Harry peered into the empty hallway to find a calming orange glow awaiting him. Louis lent him a pat on the back before letting him go, lightly shoving him into the hallway. “Be back by three!”   
  
“Sure thing.” Harry lied through his teeth. Louis sent him a knowing smile, which made Harry’s face falter a bit, before shutting the door gently. After a loud click of the lock, Harry caught awareness of his surroundings. He was in a dim but narrow hallway, with paintings decorated a few feet apart from each other. The lightbulbs hung from thin wires, kind of like a hipster design you’d find on Pinterest, gently emanating a soft orange glow that reminded Harry of a sunset. It was definitely cozy, he’ll give it that, and he wonders how Zayn scored with such a nice setup. In fact, he wonders how he found such an aesthetically pleasing hotel in the middle of London. Well, if he really thinks about it, considering that car ride was half an hour, is he even in London anymore? He doesn’t really know where Zayn’s apartment resides; He’s never been one for geography at school anyways.    
  
He decides to approach the end of the hallway, somewhat unconvinced that with the apartment’s prestige they don’t even bother to have an elevator. Harry doesn’t recall going up any flights of stairs, but maybe it was his sleep deprivation kicking in. He poked his head over the edge to find that wow, Zayn’s floor is quite a ways away from the ground floor. He craned his neck to gaze upwards, and found that Zayn’s floor wasn’t the very top either.  _ This must be quite the apartment then _ , he thinks to himself.    
  
His hand grazes over the railing as he begins his descent downwards to the ground floor. To his delight, going down the stairs is way easier than going up. Gravity sure is amazing. Hey, his feet feel really light… Is this his sleep deprivation? It would explain the way his thoughts are completely watered down, and wow, this apartment sure is pretty. Even the stairwell is decked out with flowers in every corner. Are they fake? Harry wonders if they’re fake, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they were. Yet, they’re so vibrant under the dim light that he wants to believe they’re real. God, what is he even thinking right now? He needs to get out of here and get some well needed sleep. Today was a lot. Everything in here was a lot. The fight, the argument, the car ride, the lightbulbs, the flowers, Louis’ polaroids, Zayn’s carbonara, Liam’s quest to find green plates… Too much happened today. Did today even exist? He should probably stop thinking before his own brain exhausts itself and he winds up passed out onto the floor with a broken nose. Now  _ that’s  _ an exaggeration, but it’s not entirely out of the question.    
  
As his foot comes into contact with the bright yellow flooring of the ground floor, Harry shakes his head in surprise. He quickly looked up and was met with a dizzying sight of stairs. Shutting his eyes, he went back to gaze at the floor, peeking an eye out to examine his surroundings. He’s on the ground floor.  _ Great _ . His body sagged forward as he allowed the white noise to brim his ears. What’s he going to do now? He’s tired. His mind is going a thousand miles a minute, and he has nowhere to go. He doesn’t feel like walking back up… It’s embarrassing to return a few minutes after you leave. Besides, Louis is probably asleep anyways… but then again, there’s that threat of them filing a missing persons report. He doesn’t want to trouble them, but he also doesn’t want to let them down? How is he going to excuse himself from not returning? Maybe he should return, but then tell them that somebody’s come to pick him up.   
_   
_ _ Yeah, yeah, that could work. _ He brings his hand up to stroke his chin, letting his eyes rest as he let himself get consumed in his thoughts. But who would he say came to the rescue? In retrospect, he can honestly say anybody, and they wouldn’t hesitate. They don’t know Harry’s friends, or who he’s involved with. He could probably name anyone in his life, and they wouldn’t bat an eye. But… then again, they’d probably be cautious. Louis or Zayn definitely wouldn’t buy it, or if they did, they’d probably want to verify who it was.    
  
So… He’d have to find someone to pick him up. The only person that comes to mind is Niall, but can he really call him? Niall’s probably passed out on a piano, or partying the night away in some club. He can never really tell with that man. Harry lets out a grunt of annoyance, scratching the back of his head in frustration. He doesn’t want to text him in case he’s sleeping, or even worse, partying, because it’s not like he’s going to respond. He doesn’t even know where Zayn’s apartment is, so it’s not like he can give directions.  _ God _ , this is frustrating.   
  
Running a hand through his curls, he let out a final dejected sigh before pushing open the front apartment doors. The sounds of crickets and the wind greet his ears, and the faint glow of the nearby streetlamps shine down on him. He sucks in a breath, letting the fresh cold air fill his lungs before exhaling it into the wind. The atmosphere after midnight always felt calming to him. The cold air biting at his nose occasionally as the wind blew threw his hair… The lifelessness of the city from sleeping bodies in the comfort of their own homes… It just didn’t compare to the bustling busy mornings where everything was too much, too crowded, and exceedingly too loud.   
  
He clapped his hands at his sides, balling them in and out of fists. Guess he better start on that walk… He can figure out the details later. The blood in his legs surged from the movement, and they pulsed with every step. They ached, and they ached so much. Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed by his own body’s voiced complaints. His eyelids often drifted shut under the passing light of street lamps, and the quiet echoes of his footsteps didn’t do any good in keeping him alert. The coffee shop that directly sat next to Zayn’s apartment entrance was dark, alongside a few other shops lined up against the street. Tall bur oaks lined up against the street, decorated with fairy lights around the trunk, but they weren’t functioning. They probably weren’t lit up in the middle of the night, and for good reason. Harry tried to regain his focus back onto the scenery and noticed that, along with Zayn’s apartment, everything here was quite the aesthetic. Fairy lights wrapped around each individual trunk, hung up on strings laced across the rooftops. Even in the dim light, Harry could make out vibrant flowers sprouting from the cracks of the sidewalk, adding some sense of livelihood into the ground.    
  
The leaves rustled in the wind as Harry took everything in. Now that he thinks about it, he’s not completely surprised that these three would choose some place like this to live. In fact, he wouldn’t mind living here himself. No, scratch that, a small part of him wants to ask to move in with them just to be surrounded in such a pleasing environment, but obviously, he goes to suppress it. He ducks his head down, focusing on the tufts of grass poking out of the creases of the pavement and smiles to himself. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he decides to keep his gaze downwards, not thinking about anything else.   
  
He walks and walks to the point where he’s not sure how much time has passed. He’s sure of one thing, though, and it’s that his legs are exhaustingly numb from underneath him. He decides to take a breather on a nearby park bench, (Man, these park benches. They’re so convenient. Good on the government for funding these.)    
  
As soon as his back comes into contact with the cold surface, he immediately surrenders into the feeling, his body taking the form of a ragdoll on top of the bench. His legs were spread out from beneath him, and his arms were stuffed into his pockets. He threw his head back over the bench and sucked in a cold breath. He let the relief flood through him, and the exhaustion fully consumed him. God, he could honestly fall asleep on this bench if he wanted to. It’s not like he hasn’t done so before… He’s so pathetic. Harry silently laughs to himself, finding it utterly hilarious the way he’s no different from the homeless folk in London. He has nowhere to go, no money to his name, and here he is… On the verge of sleeping on a park bench.   
  
Now, he wouldn’t be no different from homeless if it weren’t from the sudden chuckling from the shadows, indicating that Harry was not alone. Harry’s eyes immediately shot wide open, fear coursing through his bloodstream. He straightened his back, whipping his head back and forth to locate the source of the chuckle. His body was stiff, and his heels were off the ground, in anticipation that he’d have to break into a full sprint.   
  
“Well, well, well. Don’t have your puppy guards with you this time, Harry?” Harry’s breath hitched, slowly twisting his torso to face behind the bench, to acknowledge Tom’s cheeky smile as he drawled. Fear pools into Harry’s eyes, and from the growing smirk on Tom’s face, Harry knows that he could see it all too clearly. Harry ducked his head down, averting his gaze away from Tom to sheepishly face the ground. “Aw,” He could feel the sarcastic pout in Tom’s voice, “Not so tough on your own, are you?”    
  
Harry shook his head. It was instinct to want to respond to Tom this way: no words, complete obedience. Tom howled, “That’s what I thought!” His cackle pierced into the silence, making Harry involuntarily wince, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut. Tom approached closer, his footsteps indicating his distance, “You’re weak, you know that, right?” His voice was so soothing, and so unnecessarily condescending, but it’s what Harry deserved.    
  
“I know,” Harry squeaked. “I’m sorry I still don’t have the money.” He bites his lip, foolishly hoping that  _ that  _ would be enough to get him to back off. (As if that ever worked for him before.)   
  
“I know you don’t.” Tom growls, setting his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Get up.” His voice is demanding, but Harry obeys. He always does. He reluctantly lifts his back from the bench, visibly shaking as he walks over to Tom. His gaze doesn’t leave the ground, not even once. “Good.” Tom places a firm grip onto Harry’s bicep, silently digging his nails into the pink fabric of Harry’s sleeve. “How else do you intend on paying us, Harry? You really embarrassed me back there. That fucking goblin thinks he can outwit me and ridicule me…”    
  
Harry resumes being mute, aware that Tom’s rambling. When Tom rambles, he forgets about his surroundings. Harry knows this because he used Tom’s rambling as a means to escape, but he could never outrun Tom, so he stays put, his head hung low in complete cowardice.    
  
“Hey, tell your little bulldog that he doesn’t know what he’s messing with, alright? Needs to get off his high horse and realize he doesn’t run anything around here…” Tom took a second to catch his breath, “Fuck.” His grip tightened onto Harry’s bicep, sending a surge of pain through his arm. Reflexively, Harry hissed through his teeth, but immediately regretted it. Tom’s eyes lit up at the reaction, a slight coyness seeping into his features as he went to dig his nails deeper into Harry’s flesh.    
  
“How did you find me?” Harry’s voice was meek, and so unbelievably pathetic. Tom scoffed, loosening his grip, causing Harry to bite his tongue to stop himself from hurling out a sigh of relief.    
  
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Styles.” His tone dripped with complete and utter threat, but Harry pressed forward.   
  
“Tell me.” It came out shaky, but he hoped it would do him some favours.   
  
“Well.” Tom rolled his eyes, “If you really must know. I didn’t find you. I just happened to be strolling about, but…” He pursed his lips in anticipation, “You don’t believe that, do you?” Harry didn’t move. “I didn’t follow you, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not a fucking  _ lowlife  _ like your three musketeers, but… I didn’t find you intentionally.”    
  
“...How.” Harry doesn’t intend it to be a question. How far has he been walking? He wasn’t even sure. He knows that Zayn drove way too long for this to be walking distance from anywhere that Tom could be, so this all just falls onto Harry’s naivety.    
  
Tom shrugs, somewhat apologetically, “I don’t know.”    
  
“Let me go, Tom.” Harry pleads, his voice cracking. It was all so pathetic, and he can’t believe he’s still doing this even after all these years. “I have no money, and-”   
  
“Fine!” Tom grit his teeth, pulling his grip away from Harry and raising his hands up in the air in defeat. Anger burned into his retinas as he gazed at Harry with intent, “Fine.” He bit out. “Get the fucking money next week, you fucking sod.” He spat onto Harry, his residue landing onto Harry’s cheek.   
  
“Thank you,” Harry breathed out, before turning on his heel and sprinting with all his might in the other direction. He made sure his strides were wide to gain more distance, and he propelled his arms as if he were trying to maintain a lead in a marathon. After a few seconds, he felt his lungs tighten and his cheeks flush. How far did he walk? How far does he have left? He whipped his head back and forth, trying to find some semblance of familiarity within his surroundings. All he was met with was unrecognizable darkness, and a light glow of neon lights. He doesn’t even know what time it is ー doesn’t feel like he needs to know, so he keeps going. He runs and runs, until his ribcage feels like it’s piercing into his lung, and his legs may detach from his upper half.    
  
Soon enough, he’s met with the same fairy lights as earlier, and the relief punches Harry in the gut so quick it sends him stumbling onto a tree bark. He’s hunched over, heaving in an attempt to catch his breath and clutching at his stomach. Harry’s breaths are quick and ragged, and they pass through his nose in uneven intervals. His eyes are clenched shut, sweat slipping past the corners of his eyelids. His entire body is radiating heat, and the adrenaline is pulsing through his veins while his legs throbbed.    
  
_ Damn it, _ Harry thinks.  _ He’s going to have to end up sleeping at Zayn’s place. _ He takes a moment to inhale deeply, and let out a tired sigh. Guess he has no other choice, considering he doesn’t know who else he may encounter in the middle of the night, and the fact he doesn’t know where in London he exactly is. He stood up straight, stretching his back as he turned to look up at the night sky. A frown fell onto his face as he felt the embarrassment of returning settling onto his shoulders.    
  
How would he deal with that? Would he actually sleep in the huge bed, since Zayn offered? Would he sleep on the floor? God, what is he going to do? Begrudgingly dragging his feet across the pavement, he brought himself to approach Zayn’s apartment. His head hung low from his neck as he clutched at his stomach, his nose still flared with desperate attempts at long breaths. The cool air breezed through his clothing, contrasting the way his body thrummed with heat. His nerves felt like they were on fire, but he decided to repress the feeling with every breath he took.   
  
Soon enough, he carried himself across the several flights of stairs to Zayn’s apartment. With every step he took, Harry could feel his head slip in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t necessarily dizzy, but his brain was fighting to stay awake, and it showed with every disoriented blink he took. His mind was foggy and he felt incredibly light-headed, so much so that he suddenly found himself in front of Zayn’s door with no recollection of walking here.   
  
Harry went to rub at the corner of his eye, in an attempt to wake himself up, but was completely sidetracked with a yawn that sucked out all his energy.  _ God, _ he’s so sleepy. He doesn’t even know what time it is, but he’s sure it’s some ungodly hour of night that he shouldn’t be awake at. Harry turned his head up to face Zayn’s door, and focused on the individual scratch marks that decorated the creases. The door wasn’t in any pristine condition, that’s for sure, but it flaunted a slight wear and tear to it, and it felt admirable. Well, to Harry everything about Zayn’s apartment was admirable.    
  
Zayn’s apartment, but more importantly the residents of the apartment. Zayn, Liam… Louis… all of them had such a close friendship with each other, and when Harry witnessed it first hand at that dining table, he couldn’t help but wish he had that with someone. Sure, Niall was a mate but Niall’s  _ Niall _ , and it’s not like Harry has a second friend to make a group. Him and Niall are close, but they don’t talk that often, and Niall has other friends while Harry doesn’t.    
  
_ Ugh, this is so pathetic _ , Harry thinks. He balls his hands into fists at his sides, and frowns at the ground. He can’t go in there. He physically cannot knock on that door, and let himself in. Louis, Liam and Zayn are probably asleep, and enjoying themselves. They don’t need to be disturbed, or inconvenienced just to make room for Harry. Harry doesn’t feel like he deserves it. Who does he think he is? To just walk into Zayn’s apartment and live in their space like it’s his, and sleep in their bed?    
  
_ This  _ was the real reason he was so skeptical about sleeping at their place. It wasn’t because he felt uncomfortable, and it wasn’t because he felt like he was moving too fast. No, it was because he felt like he was intruding into somewhere he clearly doesn’t belong. They don’t have space for Harry; nobody does. It’s not entirely their fault though, considering Harry doesn’t fit anywhere to begin with. He’s too quiet, but when he does get comfortable, his loud mouth gets him into all sorts of trouble. It comes to a point where he’s just stopped trying altogether.   
  
His eyes are drifting shut, and he can feel his balance being thrown off kilter. His body is swaying, and  _ God _ , he is  _ so  _ tired, but a part of him wants to turn around. Actually, scratch that. The majority of him, if not his entirety, wants him to turn around and sleep on the pavement. It’d do everyone good if he did. The boys would get the well deserved sleep that they needed, and Harry would be content being out of their way. Liam wouldn’t have to trouble himself buying Harry a custom plate, and Zayn wouldn’t have to trouble himself making an extra serving. Yup, that sounds alright with Harry. Completely alright.    
  
He takes a deep breath, coming to terms with his final decision. He stretches out a leg, in hopes of walking away but was unfortunately stopped as he heard the click of a lock. Harry’s eyes shot wide open as he glanced at the fumbling doorknob. The door swung open to reveal a tired Louis with a kind smile on his face, his hand with a firm grip on the doorknob. Harry blinked in confusion, but mostly frustration, because this could’ve been the worst thing to happen to him in the history of anything. Was he too loud? Harry knew Louis was expecting him, but he didn’t know he’d still be awake.   
  
“So…” Louis brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn, “You coming in, Curly?”   
  
Oh.  _ That  _ nickname. Harry forced the ends of his mouth to perk up, even through his clear exhaustion, “...What time is it?”    
  
“Answering a question with a question, cheeky, aren’t you?” Louis chuckles. His laugh comes out slow and sluggish, and Harry feels the guilt pool into his stomach. “It’s nearing four in the morning, lad, where have you been?”   
  
_ Four _ ? Harry’s jaw slackens. God, even Harry himself doesn’t know how to respond to that. With the way he was so unfamiliar with the area, he doesn’t know how he covered so little distance in so much time. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation? Or maybe it’s his god awful memory shutting down. Either scenario wouldn’t be too surprising at a time like this.   
  
Harry went to play at the strings of his hoodie, his cheeks puffed out as he went to gaze sheepishly at the ground, “Sorry.”    
  
Louis sighed as he shifted his weight, the door creaking with his movement, “‘S alright. No need to apologize. Just get going to sleep, yeah?” Louis stepped aside to give Harry his way, and Harry obliged, reluctantly stepping foot back into Zayn’s apartment. This time, he wasn’t hesitant on where to put his stuff, but maybe it was just his exhaustion fogging up his judgement. He gently took off his shoes and neatly placed them alongside Louis, Liam and Zayn’s pile of sneakers. “Love the pink shoes, by the way,” Louis snorts, shutting the door behind Harry, “You’re still up for lending me your clothes, aren’t you?” Harry nodded with a light hum. “Great.” Louis smiled.   
  
They made their way past the living room, to which Harry risked a quick peek and found his heart warming at the sight of Zayn and Liam cuddled on the sofa. A bright red blanket was draped above their bodies, which was probably Louis’ doing, and the look of it all was… refreshing. Harry’s not entirely sure of what Zayn and Liam have, but a small part of him wishes he could have that with someone too.   
  
Louis and Harry walk through the infamous Polaroid Walk Of Fame, as Harry likes to call it, before finally reaching the bedroom. The lights were out, like most of the rooms, and it stayed that way when Louis pushed the door open, not bothering to flick on the light switch. Harry stared, nervously stuffing his hands into his pockets. Would he be able to get a quick nap in before slipping out at the crack of dawn? A pang of guilt shot through him. Isn’t it horrendous that he’s always finding ways to remove himself from the situation? His lip curls into a frown, disgusted at his own desire to abscond from every position Harry found himself in.   
  
Harry’s thoughts get interrupted when Louis awkwardly clears his throat, almost like he’s forcing it out, “If you don’t mind me asking,” Louis went to rest his hand on the back of his own neck, “Where were you?”   
  
Harry immediately became uneasy. Louis must’ve sensed it from the way Harry bit his lip and fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, because he immediately held up his palms and approached him with a soft smile, “Sorry. Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”   
  
“Thank you,” Harry whispered, this time focusing his energy on gently chewing on his own lip. Louis mustered up a soft smile, before gesturing for Harry to enter the room. It all seemed too relatively familiar, almost as if they didn’t just do the same a few hours ago with Liam and Zayn’s presence occupying the kitchen. Harry obliged, timidly approaching Zayn’s king sized bed. The light of the hallway illuminated his pathway, but he mostly relied on pure muscle memory to get there. Eventually, he felt his knees collide with the mattress, so he awkwardly turned his body and sat down onto it.    
  
“Oh, good. You found the bed!” Louis chuckled, scratching the tip of his nose. “You think you’ll be okay on your own?” His voice was soft, and genuine as he tilted his head against the doorframe. Harry noticed the way she shifted his weight as he leaned against the wall, like he was nervous to ask that question.    
  
“Mhm”, Harry nodded. The silence of his response dragged on, and Harry could feel his body tense up as the awkwardness settled in.    
  
“Alright then.” Louis cleared his throat, peeling himself off the door frame as he went to stretch his arms. “Goodnight, Curly. No other questions from me?” Harry shook his head, his eyes already drifting shut from the darkness around him. Louis hummed sadly, “...Okay.” He sighed, placing his hand on the doorknob, gently pulling the door closed. The door wailed out under Louis’ touch, “Get some sleep, okay?”    
  
Harry’s chest was itching, but it wasn’t the type of itch that ran skin deep. He felt it resonate in his lungs, and his ribcage, and mostly his heart. Selfishly enough, he didn’t want the night to end on such an awkward note. Harry squirmed on Zayn’s mattress, nervously gnawing on his bottom lip trying to come up with something; anything. So, naturally, right as Louis was about to close off the remaining sliver of distance between the doorframe, Harry blurted, “Wait!” And, of course, Louis halted.    
  
He peeked his head back into the room, the shadows casting over his face, “Yes, Curly?”   
  
“How…” The words spill out of him without thinking, “How did you know I was in the hallway?” As soon as the words tumble out, Harry immediately clasps his palms over his mouth. He saw Louis’ face drop even in the total darkness of the room, and honestly, Harry looks as shocked by the question as Louis does.    
  
“Oh,” Louis let go of the doorknob to itch the back of his neck, “Uh… I heard you.” He states. Louis’ body language is squeamish, almost like he’s holding back information, but Harry hopes he’s just embarrassed to be awake this time.   
  
So, Harry goes along with the conversation, albeit very confused, “...Heard me?”   
  
“Yeah, you…” Louis’ face hardened in deep thought as he stilled, looking up at the ceiling. Harry patiently waited for Louis’ response, even though his body was  _ begging  _ for him to fall asleep. Louis sighed, shaking his head, “You’re… loud.” His responses seem awkward, and Harry doesn’t need any convincing to know Louis isn’t telling the full tale, but he thinks nothing of it.   
  
“Ah.” Harry agrees, still not entirely sure on what Louis means.   
  
“Sorry, I mean..” Louis takes a breath, his voice more firm this time, “Think nothing of it, Curly. I heard your footsteps in the hallway, and to be honest, who couldn’t? You and the clunky way you walk, you know what I mean?” With that, Harry frowned.   
  
“ _ Heyyyy _ ,” Harry whined, pouting. “You don’t have to be like that, you know.”   
  
“Oh, but I do.” Louis’ smile is so apparent even in the dark, and it’s contagious enough to get Harry’s lips to perk up as well. “Is that all you’ve got, Curls?”   
  
“Yeah, sorry. I know I’m keeping you up.” Harry sank down onto the mattress, aiming his head for the pillows. “...Is it truly alright for me to stay here?”   
  
“Of course!” Louis gestured a quick thumbs up, “Not like you’ve got anywhere else to be. Besides, Liam’s adamant on integrating you into our lifestyle, so… think of it as a compliment. You’re one of us now, Curly.” Harry absorbed it all as he let the cool silk of the pillow caress against his cheek, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him smile. The fact that Liam and Zayn, and even Louis liked Harry enough for him to stay… even after a few hours? It’s a huge boost to his ego.   
  
“You’re welcome,” Louis chuckles fondly. Harry guesses he probably muttered out another ‘thank you’ just thinking about it. “Have a good night, Harry.” Louis ends, fondness seeping into his greeting. Harry’s eyes had long drifted shut after the final click of the door echoed through the room. With the wind howling against the windows, the calming silence coaxed Harry into a deep sleep.    
  
Harry dreamed of Louis that night, but not in the way that one would think. It felt foggy, and Harry was aware of the light thumping against his skull during the dream sequence, and all it contained was Louis outside the door, muttering, “Hope you’re excited to go shopping with Liam tomorrow.”   
  
Louis’ voice sounded clear, almost like they were in Harry’s head, but Harry brushes it off as his subconsciousness being somewhat irrational. Either way, he can’t wait to wake up for tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading! I'll see you all in the next update :) Leave a comment and tell me what you think so far! I love talking to people <3 Is it apparent that Louis can read Harry's thoughts but Harry can't hear Louis'?

**Author's Note:**

> This soulmate AU is based off the trope where you can hear your soulmate's thoughts at the most random times, which explains the uncertain nature of Harry's thoughts in Louis' mind, buuuut... does Harry hear Louis' thoughts? Guess you'll have to find out.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a kudos or a comment, thank you!


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